Wish Gone Awry
by mbilmey
Summary: Marilyn is just another Jane Austen dreamer having an unexpected fulfillment of her deepest wish: to have a Jane Austen style romance. Unfortunately, she seemed to have forgotten that there is more to the books than sunshine and roses and she certainly didn't expect to be thrown into the world of Pride and Prejudice itself.
1. Chapter 1: Birthdays

Birthdays are curious times. When we are young they mean a year more till this or that is in our reach and when we are older, it's a reminder that we are one year further from a dreamy childhood. Yet we celebrate them, sometimes just as a cause for a party. It's a rather enjoyable practice and can have good meaning and symbolism about the miracle of life, but we don't usually think like this as the day passes. It's just a day and another party with little traditions of its own that vary from person to person. Among the oddly little customs that accompany this celebration, is the ceremony of making a wish while blowing out the birthday candles. Everyone knows this is a futile gesture. There's also the idea of how disturbing it may be to think of eating cake that children have sputtered profusely over, but we seemed to find it entertaining and cling to it as a tradition. As for me, I like tradition and always made a wish on my birthday growing up. I usually wish for small or clever things that I have a good idea will come true in the future, but my eighteenth birthday was a little different.

I sat at our old oval table in the kitchen, happily anticipating the chocolate fudge dessert I had chosen as tradition as my "cake." My mother laid the glass pan on the table in front of me and lit the few candles. There were just five because my mother had forgotten, as usual, to go to the store and get more. My brothers were hopping around the kitchen taking pictures with my own camera. Soon my dad started us in singing happy birthday, which of course ended up too low and thoroughly off-key. When they finished, I put up with another picture and sat with a silly smile on my face. I had to come up with something to wish, despite my youngest brother's calls to hurry lest the candles melt all over the dessert. Having just watched Pride and Prejudice with friends in an early birthday party the night before, an ideal wish popped into my head just in time. I quickly took a great breath and blew harshly from side to side across the candles. On most birthdays, it takes more than one breath, but this time I got it all in one and heartily congratulated myself. I replayed my wish in my head. I'd gone a little overboard, perhaps, but I was eighteen. The wish: To have a classic Jane Austin style romance. I was always a firm romanticist in the best sort of way and believed profoundly that I would fall deeply in love in the far distant future, the wish was more of ajoke and I liked the idea of it. For once, though I didn't end up talking about what I wished and just kept the little dream inside, where superstitious people might think it safe.

After we ate the desert, I opened presents and was very delighted to see that, along with a new camera card and other things, I received the top thing on my list. It was a boxed set all Austin's completed works. Recently, I'd been collecting books for Christmas and Birthdays. It had started the Christmas a year before when I received one of my favorite books, _The Scarlet Pimpernel_. I was excited with these books to add to my collection and the birthday celebration that year was particularly enjoyable.

When all was done, my parents went to bed and the older of my brothers put in Gillagan's Island, which we would probably stay up watching for some time. I loved staying up late, but instead of watching the TV with them, I opened _Sense and Sensibility_ and poured over its pages, content to just lie on the couch wrapped in my snow-flake micro-plush throw and read. Reading late at night unfortunately can have a drowsy effect on people, especially when in a very comfortable position. It was not long until I had slipped off to sleep with intertwined thoughts of Darcy, Elizabeth and Colonel Brandon, with no expectations of what I might find awaiting me when I next woke up.


	2. Chapter 2: Waking Up

I turned over in bed, as always unwilling to get up even when my mind tells me that the sun it up and I will regret staying there for too long. I looked lazily up to the right of my bed where my window was, only to see that there was no window there, not even a wall. I wondered with a tired mind if I had fallen asleep somewhere else. Either way, I was too comfortable and too tired to care. I wanted to return and remember the rather pleasant dream I had been having. It was no use though and I kept turning over until I finally decided to stop trying. I sat up, wondering why I ever staid up so late. My eyes widened with surprise as I looked around and I lay back down.

For a moment I stared up at a canopy over the bed, befuddled. I walked through the events of last night in my head. The last thing I remembered was falling asleep on the couch. I thought I must have gone upstairs to my room sometime, but what confused me was that I most certainly was not in my own room at that moment. Neither must I have been in my house, for we had no fireplaces or canopied beds. I rose up again on my elbows. Where exactly was I? I looked down at the blankets around me and noticed how nice the nightgown I was wearing was. _Nightgown?_ I thought suddenly, studying the stitching on the sleeve and looking at the arm beneath the cloth as though it was not my own. Of all my clothes I owned only one nightgown, a red one that I never wore anymore. I moved my fingers. They were mine, sure enough, and I was really awake. I slowly stretched and got out of bed, sitting on the edge, thinking that something had gone on last night that I missed because I was half-asleep when it happened. Then, I started wondering, with the ridiculous sort of paranoia we get when we don't understand a situation, if something horrible had happened to cause this, such as a kidnapping or a fire. My frantic reflections were interrupted when a young lady walked in the door and set a pitcher of water next to the bed.

"Your sister is already waiting in the breakfast room, miss. She's getting a bit impatient, if you'll pardon me for saying so," the girl said in an authentic British accent. I looked with a raise brow at her clothes, which looked early American, or perhaps better phrased would be to say after the style of seventeen or eighteenth century.

"What happened last night? I think I was asleep," I asked drowsily, thinking of my youngest sister waiting for me in some strange dining room.

"Aye, ma'am, perhaps the party was a bit much for you. You fell asleep in the parlor afterward. Would you like anything, miss? Your clothes are set out by the washstand and I've poured some fresh water in the bowl." I gave her a very confused look and shook my head, dumbfounded. I stood up on the hard wood floor after she left and went over to the washstand. An oval mirror stood above it and I felt embarrassed to see that the girl had seen me with my hair as messy as it always is in the morning. I looked at the table and saw a brush, thinking that it probably was there for me and caring too much about how bad my hair looked to really care where it had been. The brush was a nice one and worked very well. I used the water in the bowl to keep the frizz down. The dress laid out was like something out of a classic BBC period drama, which thrilled me. I now thought that maybe this was some incredible birthday surprise. So, I put the dress on, which fit surprisingly well, and then started to go find my sister, Alyssa.

I walked down the hall awestruck. The place was exact to the architectural styles of my favorite time period and was gorgeous. Whoever had set this up was awesome. I was only a few feet down the hall when the girl stopped me and made me return to the room to put on some shoes and allow her to fix my hair. She put a stool in front of the mirror, where she forced me to sit while she worked about with my hair. I protested, of course as I always where my hair down, but the girl looked genuinely shocked when I said this as though she was certain I had never before done such a thing.

"Miss, this will only take a moment. Surely you won't want to go out in public with your like that. I can fix it in a moment. If you'll pardon me, miss, though, I think it might be seen as unwise to go about without slipper where there are splinters abroad." I looked at my reflection blankly and she pulled my hair this way and that. I was still confused, but as I watched, I liked very much what she was doing. I always wanted to wear it like they do in _Pride and Prejudice_ and that was exactly how the girl was doing it. She did it as easily and quickly as if she knew my face and what style fit it best. I was in love with the final project.

"Wow, thanks. I wish I could do hair like that," I said in a daze. The girl laughed.

"Just how I always do it, miss," she said and then left. I sat in front of the mirror admiring my hair for a while, until I remembered my sister and my stomach growled for breakfast. I looked around the room and found some socks and boots, and put them on as quick as I could before the girl came and scolded me again. It was a difficult task though because the old boots were weirdly made. At last, I took one last looking the mirror, was satisfied and left. Hopefully Alyssa could give me a better account of what happened.

I got lost trying to find the right room and ended up wandering around the house. Eventually, I ran into someone who gave me a worried look and pointed me in the right direction. As I was walking down the directed hall, I almost ran into someone dressed just as weirdly as everyone else, but of higher class. It was an older woman who raised her nose and looked at me with disappointment. I had no idea what I did to meet her disapproval and instinctively my hand rose to my hair.

"Marilynn! Where have you been? I had breakfast an hour ago. Ladies should be prompt, not running through the halls like a chased chicken. Don't just stand there, go in. Jannette is waiting for you."

"How do you know my name?" I finally had the voice to ask, but the lady was already gone and I hadn't the courage to call her back. Who is Jannette anyway? I thought, but went in anyway.

A small white rectangular table dominated the Breakfast room floor. It was surrounded by thin white wooden chairs that had stiff embroidered cushions. There were three places set, only one of which was occupied. I shrugged and sat down in another of the chairs. I enjoyed moving my skirt around and wished I had some of these gowns. It both felt and looked so authentic. I hoped I could keep it.

"Really Marilyn, I thought you would have been the first to get up today with the ball at Netherfield tonight and all…" I looked up and remembered the scene of such a ball in _Pride and Prejudice_ , but then I had more important things on my mind.

"Who set this up? Where's Alyssa?" I said suddenly. The person, Janette (I assumed), laughed in a quietly amused tone.

"I do not think I will try to find out what on you are going on about. You are so strange, Marilyn."

"Look, I hate this sort of game, Where am I?" I demanded anxiously.

"You're at home nitwit, where else? Are you quite alright Marilynn?" She was looking at me like I was crazy as she cut delicately into a slice of cheese. I sat back in my chair, my heart quickening. The wish I had made flashed through my head. A Jane Austen style romance. This was not what I had in mind. I looked around me again feeling very alone. It seemed that the most I could to would be to play along until I either woke up or someone proclaimed the practical joke. I smiled to myself; I had always wanted to live in this time period. I may as well enjoy it as long as it lasted.

"So..uh…you are?" I started, but she just looked at me annoyed. "What did you say about a ball, uh…Janet?" I was rubbing my hand on the edge of the table with nervous excitement. A glorious idea had started in my mind, but I wasn't sure if I wanted it to be true or not.

"Jan-nette. I hate it when you say it the other way. It sounds so vulgar." I nodded, but wasn't paying attention. Something had caught my attention that the girl had told me.

"The…I was told my sister was waiting for me to eat breakfast," I said unsure of myself. Where was I really and where was my family?

"Well, I was waiting but I hoped you wouldn't mind me starting without you since you got up so late."

"No, my sis…oh." What she said dawned on me. I shook my head, this was not real. "Sister," I said in experiment, and sure enough Jan-nette looked up at me.

"What?" I shook my head and raised my hand to my face. Right then a woman walked in bearing a tray and replenished the dish of bread and cheese. I looked down at it and then at Janette. I put a slice of cheese in my mouth, but pushed the rest of the plate away.

"I've lost my appetite. Goodbye." I stood up and ran from the room, imagining Janette rolling her eyes. I passed several people in the hall and went through many doorways until at last I found myself outside. Immediately out the door I had left was a stable, but further along I could see green fields and thin clouds. I ran out over the grass and dropped from my feet. The grass was damp but refreshing and I didn't care. I looked up squinting at the sun. A breeze gave me goose bumps. It was real. I lay down and looked up, trying hard to analyze the situation. I was not home or near it and I knew no one. All I knew is that some girl named Jannette claimed that she was my sister and that there was a Netherfield ball, which was impossible. I laughed. What sort of dream come true was this? I felt totally lost, but also a little giddy. If this was what I wished, then I was determined to make the most of it. I felt mad and still very confused, but it didn't seem to matter. Brushing myself off I skipped back over the hill inside, with no idea what to expect.


	3. Chapter 3: Netherfield Ball

That evening the girl, apparently a servant, was redoing my hair with pearl pins for the ball. I looked at the dress I had picked out; it was white like most of the others but somehow fancier. Bess, the girl, had helped me pick it out, because I had no idea what sort of thing I was supposed to wear. I had spent the day wandering around the house and getting aquatinted with everything. Luckily no one thought to ask me many questions and I'd managed to stay relatively calm at this unusual twist of events, but now I was panicking. I talked out loud because it helped me think, but Bess said little, though I am sure she thought me mad.

"I can't go to Netherfield! What if Mr. Darcy is there? The last thing I meant with my wish was to come between him and Elizabeth. I'm not going to be the protagonist of a stupid Jane Austen blasphemy! I always tell everyone anyway that I could never like Darcy because he and Elizabeth are the perfect match, but to meet him would be too much. He is more of an ideal; he's not supposed to be real. Oh, what am I going to do?" I looked at myself in the mirror and played with a necklace I'd found.

"You alright ma'am? I could tell your aunt if you would rather stay home."

"My aunt? Oh, never mind I'll go." _And I shall be determined not to become infatuated with a book character!_ I added to myself, but my palms were sweaty.

"Marilynn, must I remind you again about being prompt?" a vaguely familiar voice called from below. Bess handed me a cloak and I knew I had to go. The old lady I met that morning was waiting and the door with Jannette. _Aunt?_ We got into an old-fashioned carriage that looked new and I realized with horror that I had no idea of how to dance the fancy dances they did here.

The house that our carriage drove up to was even more magnificent in real life than I could have imagined; if indeed this was real-life. The windows were tall and the stairs were long and short, the difficult kind that were too wide to skip and so shallow that they took forever to cross. I knew I probably looked really stupid trying to scale them, because Janette kept giving me weird looks while she ascended up ever so gracefully. I sighed and tried to look as though it hadn't been difficult.

Inside, a line waited to receive us. I watched and tried to figure out how one was supposed to greet people here. The line consisted of five people which I shall attempt to describe. First was an older displeased looking man who seemed unkempt to an extent and who stood next to a short pompous looking woman in orange. Next to her stood a tall, elegant young woman who raised her chin in a pretentious way. I instantly didn't like them, but got nervously excited when I heard the girl's name. Caroline Bingly. My anxiousness increased as I caught sight of the last two gentlemen. The first had strawberry blond hair, the same as the first lady mentioned, and an easy attitude that was constantly accompanied by a happy smile. Bingly. The sight of him made me happy. The last of the party would be the hardest to meet, as by now I knew what sort of person to expect. He so starkly contrasted his friend's manner that the facts were undeniable. The presumable Mr. Darcy was tall and one of the most dashing men I had ever met. He looked a little like Collin Firth, but even more stern and with straighter hair and a thinner face. I was annoyed at myself for thinking so well of him. My time of observing was cut short as my turn came closer by one. I watched Jannette very closely, very glad to be after her.

"Do enjoy yourself Jannette, perhaps we can speak more later," Caroline said. I scowled, thinking they were two people of the same heart, but I had no time for that as right away Caroline was taking my hand and I was feeling scared to death.

"Miss Marilynn, I am so glad you could make it," she said with false graciousness. I gave her my hand anyway, but then felt embarrassed to realize that I'd neglected to put on the pretty white gloves Bess had laid out for me. I looked around and saw everyone else was wearing them. I wondered if it was custom. _Why didn't I spend more time researching these kind of things?_ I wondered desperately. I wasn't worthy of my claims as an Austen fan. I rubbed my hands and arms self-consciously and tried to catch up with Jannette. I confess, I couldn't help taking another glance at Mr. Darcy as I passed.

The room we entered was stuffed full of people chattering and discussing this or that. I felt drowned in the sense of it all, but I didn't want to miss a single detail. I couldn't believe my eyes and ears. I was at the Netherfield ball. Many of the men in the room were wearing the red of regimentals which blended in nicely. I was drinking this all in and so lost track of Jannette. I had to then look around for somewhere I could stand against a wall and observe the dancing when it started without drawing any attention to myself. I kept watching the door eagerly though, hoping to catch a glimpse of Elizabeth Bennett, and wondering if I might get to meet her.

My mind hand wandered when suddenly particular music started and the middle of the floor was instantly cleared, except for a few couples gathering to brave the first dace. I heard loud giggling from one direction as two girls pulled along two of the men in uniform into the dancing line. I wanted to laugh, so apparently the Miss Bennetts had already arrived if I was correct in assuming this was Kitty and Lydia. They were probably among the youngest ladies of the room. I watched them dace, trying to see if I could memorize the steps to at least this, in case any brave young man decided to ask me right then. But for the moment, it seemed, I was safe.

While I was thus thoroughly enjoying myself, I turned my head and noticed a certain gentleman looking at me. I straightened up and looked awkwardly ahead of me. I wondered who he was. He seemed important, but I couldn't recall any other man I hadn't seen yet that I should know, except Mr. Collins or Wickham (who shouldn't have been here anyway). From the looks of this man, who wore no uniform and looked like a gentleman, he was neither. I occupied myself by straightening out my dress, thinking about how unladylike it was that I had been actually leaning against the wall. He left and I felt like I could relax a little. I hoped nevertheless that I hadn't shown any bad manners that might have scared him off. The second dance was about to start and I started to move around the room. This would be the famous Darcy and Elizabeth dance if I was correct, and I would die if I missed it taking place in front of me. I saw Bingly and Jane arm in arm and it wasn't long afterward that I saw Mr. Darcy walk up to two young women rather abruptly. I smiled to myself at the surprised and disappointed look of one of the young ladies. So that was supposed to be the legendary Elizabeth. She was very pretty, with dark hair and a nice face. She looked the part extremely, which was very satisfying. I grinned stupidly to myself as he led her to the floor.

"Marilynn, where have you been?" I heard Jannette call to me, she sounded falsely pleasant. She was probably annoyed with me. I turned toward her to see that behind me to the right she, Caroline, the other Bingly sister, the latter's husband, and the gentleman I had seen by the wall were standing together. Jannette took my arm and forced me to join them. She obviously liked Caroline's company, and wanted to give her a good impression. Looking at Caroline herself, who was prettier than most movies depict her, I could believe that there were few people she could stand outside her own party. She probably would even go off about Jannette at the end of the day. I wanted to hate her. However, we did have one thing in common: we both kept looking for Mr. Darcy. She looked as though she would rather ignore me but manners called for her to speak.

"I would like to introduce you to a friend of my brother who is in town for the week," she indicated the gentleman I'd seen earlier. "Miss Marilynn, this is Mr. Wasch from Bath. Mr. Henry Wasch, this is Miss Parkley's sister, Miss Marilynn." The man bowed and looked happy.

"Enchanted," he said simply. His way of presenting himself had a bit of charm to it and I thought he reminded me of the vaguely of the old Knightly and the new Darcy in looks, but with lighter hair. I wondered what his personality was like, someone so dashing. I also thought a little of Colonel Brandon, but only because that's what I'd last been reading.

"Charles and I are old school friends. I am glad to see he is so pleasantly situated here." He looked pretty happy and agreeable, more like Mr. Bingly then. I wasn't sure what to say to this stranger, but Caroline's sister saved us by bringing up some question of fashion that involved everyone. I kept looking at the dance, wishing I could hear what Elizabeth was saying to Darcy right then, but it was almost enough just to watch the intent expression on their faces. I smiled whimsically at the pair of them.

"Miss Marilynn, would you honor me with the next dance?" I suddenly heard the Mr. Wasch say. I was shocked and realized he must have taken my distraction for a longing to participate. I frowned.

"I would but, I don't know how to dance," I blurted and thought better of it too late. The Bingleys and Janette looked at me as if I had said I couldn't read. I was sure my cheeks were beat red. Jannette laughed half-heartedly. I realized, also too late, and to my mortification, that they probably didn't believe me. It was probably horrible slight. .

"Marilyn merely means that she is uncomfortable performing in a party of this size," Janette explained quickly, "My sister has the misfortune of an unconquerable timidity, but I'm sure she can be persuaded." It was a bad cover up that was met with a spatter of falsified sympathy. I mused that most Austen sisters had good relationships, which this was not, but then we weren't really sisters anyway.

"Um…I…" words wouldn't come as I had nothing appropriate to say. Janette was glaring at me. Luckily, Mr. Wasch was good enough to save me, for which I was long after grateful.

"The lady does not have to dance. I would rather not persuade her into a situation that might make her uncomfortable. Though I imagine she is a better dancer than she lets on." He smiled somewhat reassuringly at me and I sighed with relief. He was so sincere and so unoffended that I decided to approve of him immediately.

"Thank you for your kind consideration," I stated, attempting for an old British feel. "I wish I could really dance better…in public, excuse me." I held the edge of my skirt and left the snobs to scrutinize by ridiculous behavior. I found refuge and slouched in a chair behind some other observers.


	4. Chapter 4: More of the Ball

"Marilyn, are you well?" said a girl in front of me who I didn't know. I was getting tired of people knowing my name without my knowing theirs. I sat up and tried to breathe more steadily.

"I think so, just tired," I said, attempting a British accent, what people thought of me didn't really matter now. I wasn't sure if she heard anyway, for just then Elizabeth Bennett came and sat by her.

"Good evening Marilynn," she said to me first and then she started talking to the other, serious looking girl. As soon as I was over the shock and awe of the idea that she'd just said my name, I leaned in to hear what she was saying more clearly.

"I wonder Mary, if you are not wiser for refusing to participate in such a thing as dancing," she started giving a shrewd glance towards the intimate group of Caroling Bingley, and I felt the same at that moment. "It is insufferable to have to deal with, certain partners."

"Well," her sister answered, "I never wanted to come in the first place, and should not have if Lydia had not complained so to Mama." Elizabeth smiled at her sister and then got up again.

"I think I shall go find Jane, if she's at last been left to herself."

"And ask about news of Wickham?" Mary slyly questioned so I could barely hear. Elizabeth just smirked and ran off. I wanted to laugh, once again happy in this little dream, but then I remembered what would happen later concerning this poor girl across from me and a piano experience. I got a quick idea in my head and decided to try it out.

"Mary," I started, nervously wiping a curl out of my face. Mary apparently didn't hear. I got up my courage and moved to sit next to her. She looked at me sideways and I took a deep breath before making my try.

"Mary, I hear you…or have heard you play the piano excellently."

"I am no better judge of my own playing than anyone else," she answered demurely. I felt frustrated. I was supposed to know so much about some people and too little about others. It seemed so dumb. I sighed and tried once more, picking a subject that might help me get onto what I wanted to speak of.

"I think playing could be considered much more profitable then knowing how to dance well." She raised her eyes in interest, and so I continued. "I don't know if I can really dance at all, but I do know some things about the piano…forte, more than some…acquaintances." The truth was I knew nothing about these sorts of dances beside what I'd seen in movie, but I could play four songs on the piano pretty well—better than my best friend. My sills would be pitiful here, but that wasn't my point.

"I do find great enjoyment in music and reading, like philosophy." I was surprised to find us having anything in common, and my confidence grew.

"Yes, books are wonderful. I wondered though; have you ever heard Mr. Bingley's sister, Mrs. Hurst play?"

"No, they have not been in the country long, why do you ask?"

"Well, I just thought it would be interesting to see how well they play, when they put on such airs. Perhaps if we heard her play tonight we could judge them more fairly to your obvious skill. I hear she claims to play expertly." She nodded.

"Perhaps we could, although I do not usually approve of competition. Then again, I had hoped…" she fingered a composition on her lap. I knew all too well what it was. She saw me looking at it and held it closer.

"I don't know if this is the best time for a singing event. If you had something prepared, perhaps you could present it at a dinner at Longbourne later. I would love to hear you, but I must admit I am anxious to find out how well this Mrs. Hurst can play." I tried to say it the nicest way I could, but had no idea of success because Mary just nodded politely without looking at me. I would have to try and save her later. I was crazy for being here and talking to Mary like she really existed when she shouldn't have. I gave up and left, wandering the room while avoiding certain people until dinner was called for.

Finally, everyone moved to the tables. I looked frantically for my pretend aunt, but Jannette found me first and led me to where we were to be seated. She was obviously still upset with me, but I didn't really care right then because I was thrilled to see that the Bennetts were sitting near us. I looked around the table trying to name people in my head. Mary, Lydia, Kitty, Elizabeth, Jane, and presumably Mr. and Mrs. Bennett. I grinned widely. Next to Elizabeth was some odd man who was a bit short, with a hunched over sort of slimy air about him. I saw the disgust on the heroine's face and almost giggled to know that I was seeing the actual Mr. Collins in person. This would be an exciting dinner, if I could stop from embarrassing myself anymore. It was sadly a little comforting to remember that I wasn't the only one who would leave this dance feeling embarrassed. Poor Elizabeth!

I was very pleasantly surprised to see that Jane ended up sitting near Bingley and Darcy a little ways across from Elizabeth and I wonder who had arranged it all. We were seated near enough so that Jannette was near enough to Bingley's sister's to hear their gossip, which left me on the end next to a stranger on one side who, in all my shyness, I made no attempt to speak to. All I could really end up doing was cringing as Mrs. Bennett's embarrassing remarks about Jane and pretend to be interested in whatever Caroline said to Janette. I also scrutinized everyone's tables manners and didn't dare eat a thing until I saw how other people were doing it. I did at one point, catch Mr. Wasch watching me watching people and I afterword tried to be much more discreet.

After supper, someone said something about singing, and I automatically stared at Mary with concern. As if prompted, she pulled out the composition and mentioned that she'd did have something prepared. I shook my head and Elizabeth was making a hard effort to suppress her need for exposure, but it was to no avail and Mary attacked the opportunity with fervor. I covered my face with my hand in another very unladylike gesture as the tune started to roll forth. It was actually a pretty tune and it was obvious that Mary had practiced it. Unfortunately, her voice was week and childish. She sang the tune alright, but was a bit overdramatic with it in a way that put her thin notes to quite a bit of a disadvantage. I could see the horror on Elizabeth's face and it was much more painful than just reading about it in the book. Secondhand embarrassment can be torturous. I was annoyed that I had failed at doing anything so far to help. It was this cursed shyness that always tormented me. I had to do something. When the song was over, I immediately stood up, nearly stumbling into my chair.

"Thank you , Mary," I said a little too loudly, after a few others had commended her efforts. Everyone looked at me and I stumbled over my next words. "Mrs. Hurst, I'm also very fond of music and I've heard from that you play the piano wonderfully, would you please play something?" I sat down as soon as the rush of words was out of my mouth and my face started to grow warm.

"Well, I don't know about that," Mrs. Hurst started to say.

"You have another song prepared don't you, Mary?" Lydia said, probably with malicious intent. I stared at her with horror. Apparently though, it was just the right thing to say. Miss Hurst patted a hand my way and stood up.

"If Miss Marilynn really desires to hear me play the piano, perhaps I can indulge her this once," she said and commenced in playing a fabulous arrangement that was as in-your-face impressive as I believe she could manage. I sat back and sighed with relief, but watched to see if anyone else was looking at me. Mary was, but it was a look of understanding. I don't think she realized what I just did. Janette gave me a surprised look and I imagined that I probably had succeeded in establishing myself as the innocent-seeming (often described as "sweet" awkward and shy one of the table. It was a familiar mask, though and I could wear it more comfortably than Elizabeth's embarrassment. I sort of lost track of what happened after that and instead was lost in thought about annoyed Jane Austen would be if it was discovered that I actually had changed the story. I'm not sure if I really did or not, since Mr. Collins afterward gave a near exact embarrassing speech after Mrs. Hurst's display. If I spared anyone, it was Mr. Bennet.

The rest of the ball, poor Elizabeth was cornered by Mr. Collins. I wished I could spare her, but there was definitely nothing I could do. His attention was completely hers. I admit, I couldn't help but laugh at him. He was so ridiculous and I at least knew that he was no real threat to Elizabeth's future happiness. The interesting experiences of the Bennet family were mostly over for the evening and I tried to think about other things, enjoying the beauty of regency era fashion and neoclassical architecture.

"How did you know Mrs. Hurst is fond of playing?" Janette asked when we were alone. I shrugged.

"Someone said something…"

"Not that I remember," she returned suspiciously. I shrugged again and reminded myself of the consequences of interfering.

"She does play well though," I said. Janette agreed.

"You could play as well if you applied yourself." I laughed.

"Probably," I answered, but how she knew that was just as much a mystery to me as my knowledge was to her…okay, maybe a little less since I actually knew that I wasn't supposed to be here—if that makes sense at all. Janette sighed.

"I'm tired," she said, "If you're not going to dance tonight, then I suppose there is no reason for us to stay."

"I guess not," I said. Janette and I then wound around the room to find our aunt, making several stops along the way while she talked to friends and I just stood nearby. Finally, we were ready to go and bid farewell to the Bingley family and friends.

"Are you leaving already?" Caroline said to Jannette sweetly. I was convinced her every action was just irony, but Janette thought she was real.

"Unfortunately, yes, but we will see you again?"

"Of course." Caroline merely gave me a slight smile.

"Thank you for playing for us," I managed to say to Mrs. Hurst as we met her, "You are indeed as skilled as they say." She thanked me for the flattery and overall treated me like the simple girl she probably believed me to be. I also got to say a passing farewell to Bingley and Darcy, which sent my heart in flutters.

"We were glad to have you both," Bingley told us with his usual grin, "Please come again, anytime." Darcy stood silently by him and I tried to suppress the grin pushing at my lips as I thought about his stoic shyness, his absolutely handsomeness, and inner goodness. He and Elizabeth would be very happy. _I_ would have been happy if I were the kind of crazy person to interrupt a story like that. The thought made me a little forlorn and confused. What were the consequences of doing crazy whimsical things and having crazy whimsical desires in a fictional universe? Should I be taking more advantage of my wish? The stubborn half of me responded with a flat _No_. Even in fiction, I was not going to be _that_ girl. I would be firm and defy the universe for abusing my wish.

All that was what I was I was thinking when Mr. Wasch also approached us.

"Miss Parkley, Miss Marilynn. It was an honor to meet you both. I hope that I will see you again before long."

"Perhaps," Janette responded. I gulped remembering how terribly I'd managed to pass as a lady in front of this stranger. "Will you be joining your friend when he and his sisters come to dine?"

"I would like to if I am able," he responded and gave me a little smile. "You said you were fond of music, Miss Marilynn, do you play?" I hesitated. I wasn't expecting that one to come back and bite me.

"Um…not really no. Only a little more than I dance…unfortunately." He seemed mildly disappointed, but what could I say? "Sweet Hour of Prayer," even with my special way of playing it, was like "Chopsticks" to what Mrs. Hurst had played.

"Please, don't let my friend's sister intimidate you; she's practiced all her life."

"I'm sure she could play something for us when you came," Janette pressed. She was going to be perpetually annoyed with me if this continued. Everyone was going to think I was the shiest mouse in the world, when in reality I was just extremely unskilled.

"I suppose…" I said, mainly just not to sound as simple as everyone probably thought, but then I gulped at my own statement.

"I look forward to hearing it," Mr. Wasch responded with the utmost gentle cordiality. Then he was gone again and I was mortified as we got into the carriage and it sunk in. Improvised "Sweet Hour of Prayer" it would be. Maybe if I played it fast enough and practiced embellishing it all week it would look impressive. But in front of the entire Bingley posse? Including expert Mrs. Hurst? I was going to die.


End file.
